


Dear agony, just let go of me

by Abi_snail



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blowjobs, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Allison's Death, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abi_snail/pseuds/Abi_snail
Summary: This just wouldn't leave me alone after I've recently found myself obsessed with this pair.The title is from the song by the same name by Breaking Benjamin :DComments are always appreciated <3
Relationships: Chris Argent/Derek Hale
Comments: 13
Kudos: 54





	Dear agony, just let go of me

**Author's Note:**

> This just wouldn't leave me alone after I've recently found myself obsessed with this pair.
> 
> The title is from the song by the same name by Breaking Benjamin :D
> 
> _Comments are always appreciated <3_

**Hello friends, I haven't written for Teen wolf in like 84 years ok, I fell out of the show at like season 2 but we're just going to go with it ok? Enjoy some angst and then some smutty goodness! Remember, comments are writers best friends <3**

Stumbling back into Beacon Hills certainly wasn't a high point in his life. He left, all the memories, the pain, the faces that reminded him too much of those he lost.

Every corner of this place seemed to hold a memory of his little girl and it ripped at his heart like claws, stole air from his lungs each time he remembered her smiling and laughing, so full of life...

The first time he drove down the streets again he had to pull over and puke on the side of the road and wait until his hands stopped violently shaking before he could drive again.  
Panic was a new thing. Chris had been raised from the start to be a hunter, he didn't run, he didn't back down, he didn't fucking panic.

It was heavy and all consuming, awful and fucking terrifying. It felt like dying and he hated every single second.

Seeing familiar faces was the worst. John was the first he saw and the sad eyes and sympathetic smile kicked him in the chest and left him gasping.

He smiled as best as he could, "I'm back" was all he could manage.

John had nodded and squeezed his shoulder. He was glad he didn't offer I'm sorry's or any of the other bullshit people often liked to say.

Stiles is next and it's a little easier, but also so much worse. He's older, in a uniform of his own, a man now in his own right though he knows he'll always see the hyperactive boy underneath. It hurts so badly bone deep because he sees a man and Allison never got the chance to grow up.

Chris would always be plagued with wondering who she would have become, what would she have gone on to do? 

She would have taken over the whole world.

She was so strong, so good and loyal...

He choked back the sobs and stopped before he started to drown in those thoughts.

The drive to his new place, just a little cabin tucked deep into the woods, was easy enough. He couldn't go back to the old house, if he had it his way he'd have had the place burned down. This was all his though, no memories, nothing to bite and claw at his already broken heart.

The cabin didn't have much and he was fine with that. He had his guns, a place to sleep, and somewhere to keep protien bars. He could make it work.

He's exausted when he finally lays down but sleep never comes. He stares at the cieling, listening to the sounds outside his window, years of training picking up on anything that sounds even a little like a threat.

He's not worried. He's not afraid to die. He's got nothing left to lose anyway.

The sun hits his face just as he's able to close his eyes, he figures he dosen't really need sleep anyway.

He stretches, eats a protien bar, checks his weapons. There really isn't much else to do. Coming back was never the end goal so he's lost, floating without a purpose.

He drives around aimlessly, not paying very close attention to anything, to afraid of the panic that wants to creep in a steal his breath away all over again.

He sees a familiar black camero and he blinks. Was he really here? How could Derek stomach staying in this hellhole?

There is no one in the car, so it really is possible that it belongs to someone else. He shakes his head and keeps driving. He knows he's lying to himself.

He tries to not let his thoughts dwell on the Hale's, especially one in particular. He tries to not think about the boy, scared and shaking as everything burned away from him, how he had clutched at his sister's hand, holding, terrified she'd slip away just like everyone else had.

He tries to not think about the man he became. Hardened by pain and loss, strong, loyal, a good leader even if he never believed in himself. Deveistatingly broken but still so fucking beautiful.

He doesn't let himself think about it. He heads back to his cabin like a bat out of hell and all but collapses inside.

~~~

Two weeks go by, no one bothers him. He's glad for it most of the time but other times the lonliness hurts so bad all he can do is wrap his arms around himself to keep all his parts together.

He knows logically that he could call someone, he could call John and the man would be there as fast as he could be. He's a good man, took learning about this dark world better than Chris could have hoped for. 

But he refuses to be a burden.

He doesn't reach out for help, he finds his hands instead grasping and holding onto bottle after bottle.

He's not really sure when it happens, he's never been a huge drinker, but suddenly it's the only thing that quiets his mind long enough for him to close his eyes and just slip into blackness.

He isn't sure what day it is, well night he supposes, when he finds himself wandering bare foot through the woods. He's not sure he has a destination in mind, maybe it's just some small voice in the back of his mind leading him. He's not sure he cares.

His vision is blurry but he can kind of make out a house up ahead of him. He looks over his shoulder, wondering how he actually made it somewhere and didn't fall in a ditch. He takes another large swallow of alcohol, not even registering the burn.

The door opens and Chris stumbles back. Recognition, pain, anger...regret.

Derek crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't take a step closer, he doesn't say or do anything at all.

Chris wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to get his body to remember how to stand straight.

"'M back." He slurs and wobbles on his feet again.

Derek stares at him for a while, still not moving. "I see that."

Chris nods and the motion makes his stomach turn and he fights back the bile rising in his throat.

Derek finally uncrosses his arms. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know." He confesses.

"Why did you come _here?_ "

His shoulders slump. "I don't know, Derek."

He can't fight it anymore and he lurches forward, throwing up all over the wet leaves and his feet. It goes on forever.

When it ends he's empty, hollow, and everything hurts more than when he started drinking.

"Go home, Chris." Derek sighs and it sounds exhausted and maybe a little sad. He turns his back on the hunter and shuts the door to his house.

Chris wiped at his face, cringing at the tears, and snot, and bile that coat his hands. He wipes them on his jeans, they are already ruined anyway.

He stumbles his way back through the woods and somehow makes it home. He doesn't remember getting undressed or taking a shower but he must have because when he wakes again he's naked and clean.

He's in more pain than he really wants to think about but at least the puke is off of him.

He glares at the bottles that litter the floor of the cabin and swears silently that he won't drink again.

He's never been good at lying to himself.

Chris cleans the cabin, opens all the windows to get the smell of liquor and puke out before he has to sleep again. His head is spinning and his stomach isn't sure it wants to keep anything down but he chugs down two glasses of water and eats a packet of crackers he had in the bottom of his bag.

They are probably well past expired but he figures they won't be what kills him.

He decides he should actually have some real food around. It's well past what most people would consider dinner time by then so he hopes the stores aren't busy. 

He parks his SUV toward the back, checks his gun at his hip and makes his way inside. It's mindless and easy, his hands just grabbing at whatever. He wasn't ever picky, he'd be fine with whatever ended up in the cart.

Chris isn't really surprised, at least he shouldn't be, when he rounds a corner and meets both Stilinski men.

He forces a friendly smile and hopes to god it doesn't look like a grimace. They seemed happy enough to accept whatever face it is he actually makes.

The small talk is something he has always hated but he grins and bares it, he does like them, really he does, he's just not ready for friendly just yet.

The shopping goes smoothly and before he realizes it he's right back in the liquor store, the same guy from the night before. He eyes Chris a bit, and he kinda wants the guy to say something because his fists itch and he wants to slam them against bone just to prove he remembers exactly how.

He unpacks the food quickly, shoving it into the small fridge and the cabinets. The bottle of Jack sits on the counter, calling, mocking...

He grabs it by the neck and falls hard onto the mattress. 

It's pitiful really, he knows it is. He wonders what his wife would think, she'd kick his ass and tell him to get over his shit, he's an Argent, he needs to damn well act like one. 

Their marriage was mostly one of convenience. Sure there was love...but he wasn't sure they were ever _in love_. She gave him Allison and she was something fierce. He'd always hold love for her in his heart.

And Allison, what would she think? 

He blinked and tears fell hot, burning his skin as they went.

He was a failure, that's what she'd think. He twisted the bottle open, fuck it.

It's pouring and cold by the time he finds himself once again stumbling through the woods. He lost his shirt and he's not sure if it's in the cabin or if he yanked it off somewhere in the woods, he remembers falling into a massive puddle, maybe that's where it was.

Derek's house comes into view and he wonders why he keeps going there. He knows Derek wants nothing to do with him, and he doesn't blame him. He's not sure what he wants from the wolf...

The door opens before he even takes another step and Derek once again stands with his arms crossed.

Chris feels like a kid in trouble, the way Derek watches him stumble his way up to the porch. He feels himself shivering but he really doesn't feel all that cold anymore.

Derek sighs. "You're back."

He shrugs because there really isn't any thing he can say. 

The wolf sniffs a bit at the air. "You're bleeding."

Is he? He glances down and his knuckles are covered in blood and vaguely remembers punching a wall for a while.

Suddenly Derek is in front of him, warm hands grabbing his elbow and steering him up the porch and into the house.

The water drips off of him, pooling at his feet on Derek's floor. Just another thing for the wolf to be pissed at him for.

Derek pulls him further into the house, into the kitchen and shoves him down into a chair. 

"Stay there."

He does. He looks around. It's a nice place, open. The curtains are drawn but he imagines it's nice and bright during the day.

Derek comes back with a sweat shirt and some pants and a first aid kit.

"Go change before you freeze to death." He chucks the clothes harder than strictly necessary. "Bathroom is down the hall, first door on the left."

Chris mumbles something like a thanks and stumbles down the hall, his head still spinning and fuzzy. He catches his reflection and flinches. 

Is that really him?

What the fuck happened? He is Chris Argent for fuck sake! Now what? Now just some hollow shell that kinda looked like the person he once was.

He tore his eyes away from the glass and ripped his jeans off, falling to the floor in the process. He smacked his head against the sink and had to close his eyes and hold onto the floor.

The door is pushing open and Derek's warm hands are hauling him up to his feet, clearly not bothered by the nudity.

"Can you not die in my bathroom?" He sighs and yanks the sweatshirt down over Chris' head. It fits well, a bit big and overly soft. "Lift a foot."

Eventually he's dressed and Derek is carding his fingers through Chris' wet hair to make sure he didn't do any real damage when he fell.

His hand is on the kitchen table and Derek is cleaning the wounds on his knuckles, his hazel eyes flashing up to Chris' face every so often and the hunter isn't sure what Derek is really looking for.

"What are you doing to yourself, Chris?"

He shrugs, at least he thinks he does. "What's it matter?"

Panic flies right up into his chest and he pulls hard away from Derek and races down the hallway. He slams down to his knees, clawing at the pants still on the bathroom floor, shaking hands searching for something in the pockets.

He can hear himself saying something but he isn't sure what it is and he knows Derek is behind him. Years of training, he doesn't have to turn to know when a predator is at his back.

He yanks the wallet out, a cheap piece of shit to replace his nice leather one that had finally bit the dust. Everything is soaked and sticking and his heart shatters.

The last picture he had of Allison was in there, ruined now because of his own fucking stupidity.

He can feel tears but he can't care because he can't breathe. The picture is in his hands and he's trying not to damage it further.

"Chris." Derek is calm behind him and he slowly rests a hand on his shoulder, no sudden movements. 

He hauls him up to his feet again, more gentle about it this time, and carefully pulls him against his chest.

"Breathe in with me."

How the fuck is he supposed to do that? His throat is closed and his lungs are exploding! It's not that fucking easy!

But Derek keeps him there, keeps pulling in slow, drawn out breaths pressing against Chris' chest. His steady heartbeat trying to settle the frantic beat in the hunters chest.

He thinks he might pass out.

His knees shake but Derek keeps him upright like its nothing, like his weight is no big deal at all.

A hand grips the back of his neck and Chris just sobs harder but he realizes his breathing has actually slowed a little bit.

He tries not to question it but it's not like he can help it. He's standing there in Derek's arms, sobbing like a child and Derek is actually helping to calm him down.

Once the tears stop, he feels more empty than before, just numb.

"Come on." Derek keeps his hand on the back of his neck as he pushes him toward a bedroom.

Chris doesn't even have the strength to argue or question. He just numbly goes along with it.

As he is maneuvered onto the bed he can't make his hands let go of Derek's shirt. It's pathetic and stupid and painfully weak but he doesn't want to let go.

The wolf must pity him something fierce because he just climbs in beside him, pulling Chris over to lay his head right above Derek's heart.

He wants to say he doesn't need this, wants to shove until he's free and run as fast as he can, want this to not feel so right that it breaks his heart.

He wants to run but he digs his fingers into Derek's shirt and holds on tighter instead.

The sun comes too quickly and Chris remembers everything. His head spins and he really wishes he could just fall off the face of the earth.

"Coffee?"

He jumps and all but punches the body that's still beside him. 

Derek is sitting up, still wearing the same clothes as the night before. Chris didn't expect him to be there, figured he would have moved as soon as the hunter had finally passed out.

Chris was still holding onto his shirt.

He lets go quickly and just nods, he doesn't trust his voice.

Derek eases out of his grip and walks silently to the kitchen, giving Chris time to try to get his shit together.

He scrubs his hands down his face and cringes at the messy beard and doesn't even want to glance at any kind of reflective surface. He knows his eyes are red and puffy, knows his face is probably splotchy.

He groans as he forces himself to finally sit up, his feet pressing against the cold wood helping to wake him up further. The smell of coffee finally drags him up fully and he shuffles down the hall.

The house is much brighter, all the curtains are open and Chris can see why Derek would like it here. He's surrounded by the woods and on a full moon, even inside, he'd still get to see it, to be in the light.

He looked comfortable as he moved around the kitchen, pulling out mugs and setting them out. He glanced over his shoulder at Chris and gestured for him to sit at the table.  
He did so without a word.

"How do you take it?"

He'd been too busy looking around the bright kitchen he wasn't ready for a question. He stared at Derek like an idiot.

"Your coffee? How do you take it?"

"Oh. B-black, just black."

He just nodded and grabbed both mugs, apparently that's how he drank his too, though that really didn't surprise Chris any.

The silence was tense as if they both knew they should be saying something. Chris wasn't sure what to say, and Derek probably just wanted him gone as quickly as possible but was maybe now too polite to just throw him out after holding him all night...

Chris took a mouthful of his coffee, burning himself as he did but he at least kept him distracted.

Derek sipped at his and let the silence linger a little longer. He looked around, picked at the table, and then finally his eyes settled on Chris.

"Why do you keep coming here?"

He didn't sound angry, not really. Chris had heard him angry, he'd heard him in pain, and sad, and so completely broken. This wasn't any of those things. He was genuinely curious.

"Of all the places, of all the people you could go to...why here? Why me?"

He wants to say he has no where else to go but he knows the wolf would hear the lie in his heart too easily. He could go to the Stilinski's they'd be more than happy to offer a couch and a shoulder to lean on while he scooped up all his pieces.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

He watches Derek slightly cock his head, Chris wasn't even good at lying to himself, he knew he couldn't lie to him either.

Derek watches him, waits to see if maybe he'll change his story but he doesn't, he may be a bit broken but he's still _him_ , he's still stubborn.

Derek clears his throat and holds up something Chris can't quite make out right away.

"Your picture. I dried it off, it's fine."

Chris' throat is tight and his chest hurts. At some point Derek did pull away from him, but not to leave, not to abandon, to fix something that meant more than anything to Chris.

He slides it across the table carefully and Chris holds it up, looks it over and shuts his eyes for a moment. 

Her smiling face looking up at his own, mouth wide as she laughed at something stupid he had said. He looked down at her with nothing but love and promises of protection.

Broken promises.

He doesn't want to cry again, he's honestly not sure he even could. He just holds the picture tight before laying it back on the table, keeping his hand overt op of it.

"Thank you." He manages to breathe out.

Derek nods and shrugs. Chris wonders if he did it because he knew it was causing Chris pain or because he knew what it was like to not even have pictures of his family to look back on.

His heart breaks for the man in front of him, for the little boy he knows is still so close to the surface under that hard shell.

They finish the coffee in silence, not as heavy as it had been before. Chris rinses out the mug he had used and grabs the picture.

"I uh, I should be going. I'll get these washed for you..."

Derek nods and goes to grab Chris' pants. They are still wet and dirty but folded neatly.

Chris pauses at the door, Derek close behind him. He doesn't look back him, doesn't think he can.

"Thanks...for everything."

"Sure."

He wants to look at Derek's face, wants to try to read him to see if he can figure out what he's thinking but if he does he's afraid he'll grab hold of him again and never want to let go.

He walks away quickly, keeping his eyes locked straight ahead. His chest tightens when he hears the door close.

He showers when he gets home and trims the mess on his face and feels slightly more human than he has in a while. He pins the picture of Allison beside his bed so it's safe and so he can see it because he needs to remember, she deserves to be remembered alive and full of light.

He cleaned up his mess from the night before and actually cooked real food before going to town to search out the laundromat.

No one else was in there which was just fine by him. He watched the news, not paying that much attention to any of the stories that flashed across the screen.

It still hit him sometimes. The fact that his entire world had crumbled down, how he had nothing left...but life went on, the world was still spinning.

When the clothes were clean and dry, he debated taking them right over and leaving them on the porch. He didn't know if Derek did anything during the day, if he had a job or a hobby. Chris knew he didn't need to work because of all the insurance money but he didn't imagine Derek as the type to just sit.

And wasn't that something, the truth finally poking at the front of Chris' brain. The truth was he _did_ imagine Derek. He imagined him a lot, in a lot of different ways.

He stopped at the grocery store and grabbed a small bag of coffee to leave with the clothes, a little way to repay Derek for his kindness, for not just tossing him out on his ass in his moment of weakness.

Derek's car wasn't there when he arrived so he folded the clothes and tucked them neatly against the door, the coffee under them so hopefully curious little creatures wouldn't run off with it.

It's not a bad day really, especially when compared to the shit show his life had been in recent memory. He works out, cleans his guns, cooks himself a relatively healthy dinner...

But nights are hard and he can't sleep without thinking of the knife sliding into Victoria's heart and he can't stop seeing Allison, pale and lifeless in Scott's arms as she begged him to 'tell my dad'.

Sure, some days are easier but the nights are always the same.

He's shooting at trees and drunk off his ass and he thinks he might be yelling but he's not really sure. He can't see, it's too dark, the lights of the cabin too dim to reach where he's standing, anything could creep up on him.

Anything does.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Derek is mad, Chris is drunk, not stupid, he can clearly see that.

"Shooting trees."

Derek crowds into his space until Chris is taking a few wobbly steps back, his spine up against the tree he'd just blasted full of holes.

"I can see that. Why?"

And he's not really sure what happens but he's pissed, and he hurts, and his heart is still beating even though it's nothing but jagged little edges. He yells.

"Because I have nothing Derek, I'm alive when my daughter is in the ground, I couldn't save her, my one fucking job, the only one I really cared about and I couldn't even do it. I promised I would keep her safe, and look what fucking happened. She died and I wasn't even the one to hold her, some punk kid had his arms around her while she took her last breath, he listened to her heart stop, Derek and I wasn't even there!"

He's crying, he can feel the hot tears on his face but he doesn't care. 

Derek's eyes soften just slightly and only for a second before he's pushing at Chris again.

"That's a bullshit excuse and you know it. You're an Argent, you don't wallow in self pity, you get up and you handle your shit. I'm so sorry for what happened to Allison, god knows I am, and if that was a pain I could take from you, I would. But you don't get to use her memory as an excuse to drink yourself to death, to stand out here practically begging something to come and rip you apart. Do you think she'd want this for you? You'd be breaking her heart-"

Chris shoves back against the hands holding him in place. "Shut the fuck up!"

Derek hardly moves as Chris struggles. "No, it hurts but you need to hear it. You are allowed to hurt Chris, you're allowed to miss her, you're allowed to have days where it feels like you can't even fucking breathe because all you can see is her laying there, believe me I know. I still have those days. But you're not allowed to stand here and tell me that this shit is ok, that this is somehow helping you keep her memory alive because it's not. This is you using her as a way to end your own life and that, that is not something I will let you do."

Chris wants to fight but every ounce of resolve he had is bleeding away and he's breaking.

Derek's grip loosens just slightly, but he's still really the only thing keeping Chris up on his feet.

"You don't get to come back, make me think that everything I felt before for you might actually mean something, you don't get to come back just to make me watch you die."

Chris is drunk, not stupid. He knows what Derek just said, knows it was a confession and god, all he wants to do is throw his arms around him and tell him yes, yes it all means something! But he can't, not yet. He's broken and a mess and Derek's right, he can't use Allison as an excuse anymore.

He can't imagine what it's like for Derek, to be standing there telling him this. Another Argent, after how Kate had used him so that she could kill his entire family.

Chis wants to tell him he's proud of him, wants him to know he's strong and brave, but he's not sure Derek would appreciate that...not yet anyway.

Derek pulls him back into the cabin and shoves him roughly to the mattress that's still just on the floor. He kicks empty bottles out of his way as he goes.

He's leaving, all Chris can see in the dim light is his back.

"Derek." His voice cracks and his throat hurts but Derek stops and turns to face him. "It means something to me too."

He can't really see Derek's expression but he does see him nod slowly before walking out of the room.

As he's falling asleep, he realizes that Derek was in a police uniform.

When he finally wakes up he throws out all the bottles and dumps the full ones down the sink. He's done, he can't do it anymore, Derek was right.

He glances at the picture of Allison. She's gone but he's still alive and he owes it to her to stay that way, to keep going, to keep her code, to protect those she gave her life for.

He doesn't see Derek for a few days and it hurts but he's glad for it too. It gives him time to think and to process. He wasn't going to try lying to himself anymore, he knew he felt something for Derek, he had for a while but he never wanted to put the wolf in that situation. Chris' name would always be tied to Kate and while Chris would never ever hurt him like that...his name still carried weight.

He ran into John at the store as always. The man smiled as he took in Chris' appearance, he knew he looked better but he must have looked like death before.

"You should come over for dinner tonight, Stiles talked Derek into coming for a barbecue."

He found himself nodding. "Sure, should I bring anything?"

"No. Well if you want beer or something you'll have to bring your own. My house is dry." He rubbed the back of his neck, still hating himself for his weakness after his wife died.

He shrugged. "Nah, I'm dry too these days."

A look of understanding flashes across John's face and he gives Chris' shoulder a squeeze before nodding.

"Stop by around six."

"Thank you."

He fought down his unease the rest of the day. He wasn't sure how this kind of thing worked, it had been so long, at least it felt that way to him. Maybe it passed like a blink to the rest of them but to Chris, his pain was still right at the surface and it felt like decades.

He arrived at the Stilinski's house at six on the nose and knocked but no one answered. He peeked around to the back and saw all three men smiling, laughing...

Derek looked completely at ease, comfortable with his surroundings and Chris wondered how often they all got together. He ignored the stab of jealousy that flared hot for a second.

Stiles spotted his first and waved like a maniac. "Chris!"

The other two men turned to greet him and while he shook John's hand, he had trouble keeping his eyes off of Derek.

He was led to a seat and handed a soda while Stiles rambled on about something that had happened at work.

Derek rolled his eyes fondly but nodded along with the story anyway.

It's easier that way, with Stiles keeping the silence away thanks for his overactive brain, it kept Chris from sinking, kept darker thoughts back with the easy laughs that floated around him.

By the time the night was coming to an end, Chris was full and had even shared a few laughs. The sound bubbling past his lips startled him for a second and Derek had subtly leaned in, bumping their shoulders together. It didn't hurt so much after that.

John had walked him to his car and Chris had laughed because it was such a dad thing to do, even though they were so close in age, and he was glad that that thought didn't come with so much agony. He sent him on his way with a plate of leftovers and told him to come by anytime, he was always welcome.

He glanced at the door once he was in his car and watched John squeeze Derek's shoulder and Stiles wrap his arms around him like a clingy little brother.

The drive was nice, he had all the windows open and let himself start to relax for the first time in so long. His chest wasn't as tight and heavy, it was like he could finally breathe again, at least a little. But he'd be happy to take it.

He showered and dressed in sweats pants. He was in the process of finding a somewhat clean shirt when someone knocked.

He knew, logically, he should grab a gun but there was some part of him that already knew who was on the other side of that door. Once upon a time that wouldn't have mattered, the fact that a Hale was standing there would have been reason to pick up a weapon, but now, now he just wanted Derek in the house.

Derek didn't seem as imposing as usual, he looked a little lost and out of place and Chris understood. It was moments like that where Chris could still see that little boy under there, so unsure of what to do next because no one was around to teach him.

He stomped down the fact that that was because of his family, that Kate and his father had stolen all of that away from Derek.

He reached out, gently grabbing Derek's wrist and pulling him into the cabin.

Derek came willingly, seemed to relax as Chris led him inside. He wondered if Derek was worried he'd turn him away, reject him after his confession.

The wolf's instincts had him looking around the room, finding exits and possible threats, but he didn't seem worried and Chris' chest felt lighter for it.

Chris stepped up into Derek's space, wanting nothing more than to pull him into his chest but he kept a little space between them, this was up to Derek now.

Derek stared down into his eyes, questioning, needing answers to everything, needing reassurance that his confession didn't fall on deaf ears.

He repeated Derek's words over in his head and reached out, letting his knuckles brush against Derek's.

"It means something to me too, Derek. It always has."

Derek shuddered, his eyes leaving their hands and meeting Chris'. 

Derek leaned down and pressed his lips to Chris' and everything in him snapped apart. He slammed himself into Derek's space, kissing him back like Derek was the only thing in the world that could keep him tethered there.

The wolf grabbed at his hips, pulling him impossibly closer, his tongue sliding into Chris' mouth like it belonged there. Chris felt himself clawing at Derek's shirt, needing more of him. Derek didn't stop him, just helped him remove his shirt and Chris moaned into Derek's mouth when he finally had his skin against him.

Derek pulled back just enough to get to Chris' neck. He knew, from all of his training, he should pull away, protect his neck, instead he tilted his head back, giving Derek better access.

The wolf rumbled in his throat and bit down just enough to have Chris' hips slamming into Derek's. He wrapped his hand around the back of Derek's neck the way he had done for Chris while he was panicking, his finger nails digging in just slightly. Derek gasped and shoved Chris hard against the wall, his eyes flashing blue.

Part of him wanted to tell Derek that they needed to slow down, that there was no rush. He worried how Derek felt about it all.

But the louder part of his brain could only focus on Derek pressed against him, hard and wanting him just as badly and he couldn't bring his mouth to do anything other than bite into Derek's shoulder.

Derek was still digging into Chris' hips, pressing him into the wall.

"Chris..."

He was glad Derek sounded as breathless as he felt, happy to know he wasn't the only one so completely affected by what was happening.

It took him a while to realize Derek was waiting for something, his eyes searching Chris'.

"Whatever you want, Derek."

Derek bit his lip, considering the words for a moment before he nodded once and fluidly moved down to his knees, his fingers dipping just under the band of Chris' pants.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't that.

Derek glanced up through his lashes once he was settled on his knees and all Chris could do was nod.

It was easy for Derek to just tug the sweat pants down and Chris had never been more grateful for elastic waist bands in all his life.

When Derek wrapped his hand around him and stroked up once, Chris knew it was going to take very little to get him off. It had been so long since even his own hand had brought him off but this, Derek on his knees looking up at him, his hand wrapped just right...

"Christ."

Derek smirked just a little before he leaned in and wrapped his lips around Chris' cock. That was about as much teasing as he was going to get because before he could even let out a moan of appreciation for that, Derek had him down in his throat.

His hands flew to Derek's hair and he tugged and Derek flashed his blue eyes again. Chris wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing but as he moved his hands away, Derek caught them to keep them there.

He pulled again and Derek moaned around him. His head fell back against the wall and his eyes wanted to close but he didn't want to miss one second of what was happening. 

He heard Derek's belt opening and watched him free himself from his pants, his hand moving fast, just as desperate for it as Chris was.

"Holy fuck Derek, that's it, that's good."

Derek's eyes fluttered under the praise and he worked his mouth more, he didn't even seem to mind when Chris' hips moved, starting to fuck into his throat.

It was too good, the hot wet heat of Derek's mouth, the way he moved his tongue and relaxed his throat...it was unreal and Chris lost himself in it.

He pulled at Derek's hair, trying to warn him. "I'm close, Der-fuck!"

Derek didn't move and looked up to meet Chris' eyes and that was enough to send him over. Derek swallowed it all, gently sucking to not miss any. He laid his head against Chris' hip and kept moving his hand.

Chris stroked his hair. "Come on Derek, I want to see you come for me."

He whimpered and held tighter to Chris as he came in his hand, his shoulders shaking.

He pulled Derek up to his feet and pulled him in for a kiss. Derek was boneless against him and Chris guided him to the bedroom. He stripped Derek down the rest of the way after he'd washed his hands, and pushed him down to the mattress.

He knew wolves were tactile creatures but he still wasn't quite prepared for it. Derek wrapped himself around Chris, pulling him in to his chest and pressing his face to Chris' hair.

Chris wasn't sure what this thing was, but he knew he didn't want it to go away. He liked being there against Derek, liked that he could press kisses to his collar bone.

Derek shifted, pulling a blanket up around Chris' shoulders. "We should talk about...this."

Chris knew they needed to. "Yeah, tomorrow ok? Can we just sleep for now?"

He felt Derek smile against his hair. "Ok."

Things weren't perfect but they were ok, and ok was good enough. He had laughed with friends, people that cared, he had kissed and fallen into the arms of someone who cared for him. He figured if Allison was watching from somewhere out there, she'd be happy, she'd be glad to see the little bits of his heart finally pulling themselves back together.  
He snuggled into Derek and kissed his neck, smiling when the wolf made the happy rumbling sound in his chest.

It wasn't perfect and he had a long way to go, but if laying there with Derek holding him was ok, then ok was pretty damn good.


End file.
